Wild, Wild West
by Sivan IXXX
Summary: When an attempt is made on George Washington's life, Connor is called upon once again to track down and capture the assassin responsible. But with a bounty on his head, and chasing a shadow deep into enemy territory, an unlikely alliance is formed with a whirlwind of woman that just might end up getting him killed. Connorline AU.


**A/N: This is simply a preview for my next Connorline story, but please do review and let me know what you think of this appetizer!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters affiliated with Ubisoft, or any part of aforementioned company, so please don't sue. However, the unfamiliar characters that aren't associated with the Assassin's Creed series are purely original and belong to me.**

**Also: I'm letting you know now, this is an AU, so I know the dates for certain things are wrong. They're intentional**.

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><p><span><strong>Wild, Wild West<strong>

_**Prologue**_

"Are you sure this will be painless? I mean, I've seen an Animus at work, but the last guy I saw in it—he was screaming."

"Priscilla, you don't have anything to worry about. That was a minor fluke. What you saw was The Bleeding Effect."

"'Bleeding Effect'? That doesn't sound good."

"It only occurs when the user is put under for long periods of time. And besides, the coding for the Animus Type Zero is very advanced. You could stay under for up to twelve hours at a time, and sift through several months of your ancestor's memories."

"And what _exactly_ am I looking for?"

"A deeply repressed memory segment in his life. Apparently, he deeply regretted ever having experienced what he did. It's…locked in a way, so you have to relive the memories preceding them in sequential order first."

"You mean, like Desmond with Altaïr?"

"Precisely. According to what we've recovered so far, he died in 1841, and had birthed seven children with his wife. We want to know what happened prior to his life as a married man. All we know is, he was born in Valley Forge in 1752 to a Native American woman."

"What was his name?"

"Historical records have him identified as Connor Kenway."

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><p>"Connor, this nation deserves a better leader than I. I almost cost us the war, and my own men undermined my authority several times in battle. They don't trust me; they're probably conspiring against me right now." The newly inaugurated President stood firm at the window, but his shoulders were slackened; Connor knew that despite all his accomplishments—which included freeing several small colonies and creating a nation therein—that he was mortal. He was a man, subject to guilt, to failures, to imperfection, and thus, to self-doubt.<p>

"When you called upon me for help, I did not think of it as coming from weakness. And it was not just from I alone that you requested assistance; you recognized a strength in each one of us that aided in securing the victory. It takes discernment to do such, and without it, we would not have won. Commanding an entire army comprised of farmers, priests, and poor men is not easy, and certainly not a task any ordinary man would readily take upon himself."

Washington broke his stance, and turned to the large, dark man standing directly across his desk. He had been working with the Native for quite some time, and entrusted him with his life, though they had had their fair share of disagreements. "Despite your age, you have the wisdom of a sage at the most proper of times. I really do wish to retire to Virginia with my wife, and live out the rest of my days quietly. But this infantile country needs my help. Without someone to lead them, the colonies will descend into madness, and a civil war will be on our hands. I cannot stand idly by and let that happen."

He approached Connor and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Connor. I'm very fortunate to have you serve as General of the United States Army. It is a responsibility I wouldn't give to any other."

"Some of the men aren't too pleased to have a half Breed ordering them around, but they will listen nonetheless if they want to eat and have somewhere to rest every day."

"They will come to respect you for your skills, and that has no color." He removed his hand, opened the door, and parted ways with the Native.

Smiling to himself, Connor glanced down at his dark blue uniform, pressed and in pristine condition. In such a short period of time, he had experienced so much; he only wished that his mother was there to see him.

His heart ached at the thought of her, but he quickly dismissed it. She wouldn't want him to mourn her for too long, and her passing had occurred many years ago.

He exited the President's office and headed for the main entrance to retire for the day.

The sight before him caused him to cease in his movements as his heart skipped a beat.

It was Deborah Carter. She was one of the nurses in Washington's main infirmary camp. He admired her for her resilience and her determination to support any way possible. She was deeply devoted to supporting the colonies' rebellion, and had even helped Connor with an injury or two, entertaining conversation on each occasion. It was some time ago when he had felt the same flutter in his chest over a fellow Native girl named Kaiawatha, who had fled to Boston after the British raided her village.

It was nothing more than a fleeting emotion to him, but after his interesting conversation with Francois, his course on the earth could come at any time with no descendant to pass his name onto, and no wife to claim as his own. He thought deeply about it, and felt it was appropriate to initiate the drawing of a few plans.

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><p>Entering the compound was all too easy for the invader. Two men posted at each corner of the estate, three guards casually walking across the lawn in a simple pattern—it was all too easy. They were practically inviting him to come in and take whatever he wanted.<p>

But he had come to take only one thing, and that was all that mattered.

Once it was safe, he scaled the wall of the two story home and pushed open the window with ease.

With perpetual darkness as his aid, he continued on, his booted feet hardly making a noise. The house was quiet, with the exception of the clock ticking with each passing second. Each tick, he was closer and closer to his destination. The anticipation made his heart race, but he remained calm. One mistake, and they would never have their chance again. They would ensure he would never succeed, should he escape with his life.

There was no indication as to which room was which, but if his prior knowledge of the colonist's preference of infrastructure, then the master bedroom was towards the back. And to his pleasure, there was a single door down the dark hallway with a floral wreath hanging in its center.

Quietly, he pressed his body against the wooden fixture and turned the jamb slowly, observing his surroundings with utmost scrutiny. Focusing his senses, he quickly realized that there was only one person sleeping in the bed—and it wasn't his intended target.

He returned to the hallway, and heard a soft sigh come from a room further down the corridor. It was a decidedly male voice, and he felt his pulse throbbing in his temple. His deft fingers held fast to his weapon of choice as he approached, peeking around the corner.

It was most definitely him, and he was completely unawares. Relaxed, stretched out on the couch and completely defenseless, the leader of the newly liberated nation resembled a cat idling in the sun.

He moved quickly and quietly into the room, his saber bared and reared back. Within a second, the man on the couch was alert, and just barely missed the assault that would have pierced his heart. But the blade managed to plunge deep into the flesh of his shoulder, and he let out a muffled howl as he stumbled to his feet. The assailant was on him in a flash, delivering a swift kick to his chest, sending him tumbling over his desk and onto the floor. It made more noise than the assassin had anticipated, and it was a matter of time before his wife or his guards came.

"What is the meaning of this?" the President asked, holding his gaping wound.

The attacker said nothing, rounding him like a feral predator.

His vision started to double, and he found it more difficult to draw breath. Washington staggered forward, grasping the edge of his desk. "Poison..." he rasped before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

This was his chance to end this once and for all. He hovered over his body, unsheathing his blade as he knelt down. His neck was open and exposed, its flawless exterior all too tempting for the assassin to mar with the stain of his own blood.

If it hadn't been for the click of the chamber being loaded, the killer wouldn't have moved in time, and a ball of hot lead would've made home in the side of his head.

"Step away from the President, and surrender, or I will kill you," he warned.

The assailant got to his feet, scrutinizing the brown man from where he stood. "You're on the wrong side," he said. "It's only a matter of time before you become a slave, too." He dropped a smoke pellet on the floor and went for the window. Connor covered his mouth and nose with his kerchief, aimed through the smoke, and fired. He heard the assassin grunt just before he heard the soft thump of his feet hit the grass and fade into the background.

"What happened?" his first officer asked, hurrying into the room. "My goodness. Who is responsible for this?"

"Whoever it was is gone, but I shot him. He will be easy to track if we follow the blood. But we must wait until sunrise. For now, he needs a doctor. Call for Doctor White," the Native demanded, removing his scarf and placing it on Washington's shoulder. "Hang on. Your people need you," he muttered. Apparently, the voice of another human roused him out of his incapacitated state, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"Connor…you must find him…"

"We will track him by his blood trail. He won't get that far."

"His eyes…are white…and cold. Like…like the Devil."

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><p>Author's Note: So, what'd you think? Good preview? I'm asking that you review, not because I need an ego boost, but because I really do appreciate you guys' feedback. I use it to fuel the story so that it's more appealing to you guys. I don't write this stuff for myself.<p>

Well, you can expect this to be regularly updated this fall, after Shadows is complete. Thank you for reading this, and I apologize for the long hiatus. My computer died and then the Internet was acting weird.


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